when my heart had been broken into little pieces, when I’d cried my eyes out a hundred times, then, when all the trouble was over, and people weren’t cutting me on the street,—­then you came back.  And even then you never said once that you were ashamed, or sorry for the way you’d treated me.  You just came back, when I’d fought it all out without you, and whistled, and thought that I’d tumble into your arms....  Oh, it’s natural, I suppose, for a woman to lie and be mean, and afraid of what people will say—­for that seems to be the—­the way they’re brought up....  But—­but—­”

Her voice, which had begun to trail a little, dropped off into silence.  She turned away; made a visible effort to control herself.  And then there floated again into the still room the sounds of muffled revelry:  strong Mrs. Heth making merry with her friends, a few of the best people....

“But I only hurt your feelings for nothing,” said the girl, in quite a gentle voice....  “Hugo, try to forgive me if I’ve done you any wrong.  But ... you—­you have your train to make.  Don’t you think you’d better go now?”

Hugo’s extraordinary reply was to seize her in his arms.

“Go?...  Yes, and take you with me ... you little witch.  Why, you’re raving, little witch,” said the hoarse, violent voice in her ear.  “Gone out of your head with notions....  D’you think I’ll let your life and mine be spoiled for a few minutes’ crazy madness?  You need to remember you’re a woman, that’s all....  Don’t struggle.  It’s no use.”

Her wild efforts to release herself, indeed, only drew his embrace tighter.  His cheek rested upon her hair.

“Don’t struggle, little witch.  You’ve had your head too long.  I’ll make up your mind for you.  You’re going to marry me now.  To-night.  Don’t tire yourself so.  It’s all settled.  You belong to me—­you see that now, don’t you?...”

Now his hand was beneath her chin; he raised the still face she had kept so resolutely buried against his breast.  And Cally felt his burning kiss upon her forehead, her cheek, upon lips that would nevermore be his.

“Little temptress ... you were so anxious for me to love you last year....  Doesn’t this teach you that I’ll never give you up?  It’s all settled now.  We’ll be married at once.  I’ll hold you this way—­kiss you this way—­till you learn to do what I say.  Then you’ll go up and put on travelling-clothes.  Never mind lug....”

His wedding-trip ended in the middle of a word.  His clasp had been weakened by that hand he had raised, and with the sudden strength of desperation his bride had broken from him.  In an instant she had put the table between them.

Over ten feet of lamplit space, the lovers of yesteryear regarded each other.  Both were white, both trembling.  The girl now suffered a brief collapse; her face dropped into her upraised hands, through which, presently, her voice came brokenly: 

“Go!...  Go, I beg you....”